


Another Round

by Plenoptic



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, PWP, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plenoptic/pseuds/Plenoptic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Machiavelli and Volpe make a friendly wager over a game of dice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Round

“You want to play a game?”  
Niccolò Machiavelli glanced up from his glass of wine, making a face at the thief in the doorway. “No. Go away.”  
La Volpe chuckled, taking a seat across from him and placing a hand on the younger man’s knee. “Not a fan of parties?” As if on cue, loud laughter echoed from the mess hall as Bartolomeo drank a third man beneath the table. Smiling, Volpe closed the door, bolting it.  
“I like them all right. Just not when I’ve spent the day fighting for my life.” Niccolò shifted his leg, pulling it from Volpe’s grasp. “Go away.”  
“Come, tesoro. We’re celebrating a victory today. The Apple is ours, Ezio is one of us at last…” He leaned forward, brushing his lips along Niccolò’s ear, nipping softly at his lobe. “How do you find him, by the way?”  
Niccolò shrugged. “I thought he’d be more like his father.”  
“Oh? How so?”  
“Wiser. Calmer. Steadfast.” Niccolò inhaled sharply; Volpe had slid a hand beneath his coat, fingertips like hot pokers teasing him through his shirt. “He’s too much like his uncle. Liable to get us all killed and laugh about it afterward.”  
“Pretty, though. No?”  
“What?” Niccolò spread his legs, letting the thief crouch between his knees. “You want me to fuck him?”  
“Maybe. You know I like the way you wield power.” Volpe stuck his tongue in his cheek, managing to undo the ties of Niccolò’s shirt without opening his coat and sliding a hand down his chest, running his fingers through the dark curls of hair. “Come on. Play a game with me.”  
“What is it?”  
“Liar’s dice. Heard of it?”  
Niccolò watched the outline of Volpe’s hand rummaging beneath his clothes, chewing on his lower lip. “The one where we bet on the numbers on the dice?”  
“That’s the one.” Volpe withdrew his hand, dipping his head to leave a tantalizing bite against Niccolò’s jaw before getting to his feet and taking a seat across the table, procuring six dice from his pocket. “You’re in, then?”  
“What are we betting with?”  
“We’ll play a few rounds. For every one I win, you remove an article of clothing.”  
Niccolò arched an eyebrow. “And when I win?”  
“I shall do the same.”  
“And if I don’t care to see your naked ass?”  
Volpe clicked his tongue, waggling a finger at the younger man. “Lies don’t become you, Machia. Come. Three for you, three for me. Roll.”  
“Lies, I’ve been told, become me uniquely well.” Niccolò rolled, covering his dice with his hand and pursing his lips. “Three fours.”  
“Rather a gutsy first bet. Four fours.”  
“Lies.”  
They revealed their hands, and Niccolò scowled. “Damn.” He slid out of his coat, ignoring Volpe’s snigger. “Again.”  
A minute later, Volpe shucked his boots, smirking; another round, and Niccolò did the same. He wished he’d thought to wear a second pair of hose. He just barely managed to straight-face his way to a second win, and blanched when Volpe got up and boldly shucked his trousers.  
“Christ!”  
“What?” Volpe asked, mock-innocent, placing his hands on his hips. “It’s a long tunic, I’m covered.”  
“Not by much!”  
“Oh, don’t be a child. Roll. We’re tied now.”  
A roar from past the door signaled Bartolomeo’s fourth victory over a hapless mercenary. Running a hand over his short crop of hair, Niccolò tossed his dice onto the table.  
“One six.”  
“What happened to your balls, Machia?”  
“Shut up and bet.”  
“Very well. Six sixes.”  
Machia stared at him. “Oh, for—”  
“Ah, ah, that’s my bet. Show me.” Volpe grinned when Niccolò dropped his hand. There were decidedly less than six sixes on the table. “Excellent, I lose.” He took his time undoing the buttons of his tunic, enjoying the red flush of Niccolò’s face.  
“Just one!” Niccolò said, reaching out to grab Volpe’s wrist when the older man began to undo his belt. “The belt counts!”  
“Come, the belt is an accessory.” And Volpe freed the last few buttons, letting the tunic slip from his shoulders, leaving him clad only in his dark cape. Niccolò swallowed audibly, eyes fixed on the older man’s straining need standing between his thighs.  
“You need win only one more.” Volpe’s purr brought his attention upward. The thief extended a hand, brushing a fingertip along Niccolò’s jaw. “Roll.”  
Niccolò gathered his dice in one hand and dropped them on the table without releasing the thief’s gaze. “Six threes.”  
Volpe smirked, glancing down at the table. “Lies. You lose. Your hose, I think—would you like help?”  
“Please.” The word left Niccolò’s mouth like a caress. He watched with rapt attention as Volpe stood and circled the table, dropping to a crouch and shuffling forward to press his mouth to the inside of Niccolò’s knee. “Gilberto…”  
“Hush,” Volpe growled, placing a bold hand on the swell of Niccolò’s crotch, smiling when the young man’s hips shifted and his eyes darkened with want. His erection was a hard outline against his hose, and Volpe brushed a thumb up its length, teasing the tip with his nail. “To be clear, I don’t want you fucking Ezio.”  
“Noted,” Niccolò said, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “But only if you cease this playing.”  
“I can’t help myself. You’re so lovely, tesoro, when you’re hot and bothered.” Volpe made himself comfortable between Niccolò’s spread thighs, pushing his linen shirt up to his chest and leaning in to trace a long, wet path down the younger man’s abdomen with his tongue, ending at the trail of hair just beneath his navel. “Patience is a virtue, after all.”  
“I’m not a patient man.” Niccolò pressed a hand to his mouth to keep from crying out when Volpe cupped his balls, massaging them with his palm. “Oh, fuck.”  
“You’re so hard.” Volpe sounded a little too delighted for Niccolò’s liking. With painstaking care he pulled Niccolò’s hose away from his heated flesh, hiking them down beneath his ass. “And so quickly, too.”  
“Enough talk.” Niccolò slid a hand through the thief’s dark hair, biting his lower lip when Volpe nestled closer and ran his tongue along the bony protrusion of the younger man’s hip. “Gilberto.”  
“Watch your mouth, Machia,” Volpe murmured, his voice low and sultry. “Or I shall find something to occupy it.”  
“You’ve never told me why you dislike—Ah!” Niccolò shuddered, arching back against the table when Volpe’s tongue swiped the head of his cock. “Mn—fuck!”  
“There’s a good boy,” Volpe said, chuckling darkly and wrapping a hand around Niccolò’s straining length, giving him several pumps and relishing the struggling gasps he received in return. “Nice, isn’t it? See, patience is rewarded.”  
Niccolò couldn’t piece together an answer. He tightened his grip on Volpe’s hair, pushing back his hood, pulling him closer. The older man finally took pity on him, leaving a few soft, sweltering licks from base to tip before taking Niccolò’s cock in his mouth, swallowing him with an ease only experience could afford.  
“Fuck—shit—ouch!” Panting, Niccolò scowled down at the thief, who had pinched him sharply on the thigh. “F-Fuck off.”  
Volpe couldn’t smile, but his eyes glinted, and his tongue traced a languid circle around Niccolò’s tip, leaving him breathless and straining, struggling to keep his hips still. Heat coiled low and tight in his abdomen, sweat made his shirt stick to his chest, peeled away when Volpe’s hand stole up his torso, raking his nails along heated flesh.  
“Fuck me,” Niccolò mumbled, near delirious and mesmerized by the steady, gentle bobbing of Volpe’s head, the teasing swipes of his tongue that made him see white.  
The thief came up for air, arching an eyebrow and stroking a finger over the tip of his lover's cock, watching the younger man grunt and writhe. Sensitive. “You’re sure.”  
With a growl, Niccolò grabbed him by the hair and pulled him forward, meshing their mouths, tasting Volpe’s teeth before the older man shoved him back against the table and got to his feet.  
“I haven’t any oil, tesoro. It will hurt.”  
“Don’t care.”  
Volpe smiled, leaning down to kiss the younger man again, gently this time, a slow, heady dance of lips and tongue and teeth that left Niccolò short of breath. “Turn around.”  
He did as he was told, planting his knees on the bench and anchoring his hands to the table. Volpe leaned in close behind him, kissing a searing path across his shoulder, nestling his cock in the cleft of Niccolò’s ass and grinding on him, rutting against him like an animal.  
“Volpe—”  
“Hush.” Volpe’s hand enclosed his young lover’s erection, working him gently, pulling on him until Niccolò thrust into his hand, desperately seeking friction. “Relax.”  
The thief grasped him by the hips. Niccolò gritted his teeth, grunting in pain when Volpe breached him, his muscles screaming. Volpe usually delighted in spending hours preparing him for their love making, teasing him with light touches and soft kisses throughout the day before pulling him into bed at night, stretching and playing with him until Niccolò was almost pleading to be taken. He liked it better than he cared to admit, liked the way the thief forced him to surrender his power, forced him to accept another’s love and attention.  
“You love this city, tesoro, more than you love yourself,” Volpe would murmur, his words often interspersed with lazy, wandering kisses. “You must let someone love you in your place.”  
Tonight was different. Gilberto’s want was so palpable and so raw that Niccolò was sure he began to bleed when the thief finally took him fully, hilting his entire length with a soft moan.  
“Does it hurt?” Volpe traced his fingers down his lover’s throat. “Niccolò…”  
“Yes.” Niccolò closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the table, digging his nails into the wood. “Keep going.”  
Volpe kissed the back of his neck and wrapped an arm around his waist, and then he began to move. It was sweet at first, long, slow strokes that filled Niccolò completely before leaving him empty. He fought not to clench down upon the intrusion, focusing on keeping his breathing steady while Volpe fucked him.  
“Niccolò.” Volpe was mumbling in his ear, tongue and teeth occasionally wandering to leave soft bites against his neck. “Niccolò....amore…”  
The younger man’s stomach lurched with panic, and he shakily unhooked his hand from the table to press it to Volpe’s mouth. Volpe kissed his palm and went quiet.  
Niccolò lost track of how long they spent intertwined. When their muscles began to ache from holding their joined frames upright, Volpe pushed him to the floor and laid over his back, hitching his ass into the air and pounding into him almost mercilessly, murmuring endearments while Niccolò shouted with each hard thrust, pressing his forehead into the floor.  
“Inside,” Niccolò gasped, when he heard the telltale snarls that signaled Volpe’s approaching climax. “It’s alright…”  
Gilberto turned him onto his side, slowing his pace and leaning down to kiss him. Niccolò swallowed his lover’s soft moans, arching into his attentions when Volpe’s cock pulsed inside him, spilling in him. A hand reached for his erection, thumb brushing the head before his length was enclosed and pumped, Volpe’s fingers spreading the dribbling seed from the tip up and down the shaft. Niccolò clutched him close, digging his nails into the thief’s cape, arching his hips into the last few hard thrusts before he slipped over the edge.  
“Tesoro.” Volpe winced, freeing his softening length of Niccolò’s body and rolling his young lover onto his back, leaning down to kiss him messily. “Machia?”  
“...Mm. What?” Niccolò cracked an eye open, scowling.  
“Are you alright?”  
“Must you ruin everything with talk?”  
Gilberto smiled, pushing Niccolò’s damp shirt up to his collar and dipping his head to trace his tongue around a hard nipple. “Apologies.”  
Niccolò only grunted, lacing his fingers behind his head and exhaling slowly, basking in the warm tingling that raced from his toes to his head and back again. He freed a hand to touch his neck, wincing when he found a fresh bruise.  
“Dammit, old man. That’s going to show.”  
“Just fasten up your coat,” Volpe mumbled against his skin, but he moved up to Niccolò’s throat and licked the love bite, soothing the irritated flesh. “There. Better?”  
“No.” Niccolò wrapped a hand around the thief’s neck, pulling him in for a long, lazy kiss, letting Volpe plunder his mouth.  
“How about now?” Volpe asked, murmuring against his lover’s mouth, inching a hand downward to stroke the younger man’s cock.  
“Ow—ow, dammit, stop!” Niccolò batted him off, pushing himself up on his elbows and hiking up his hose, covering his manhood. “Christ, idiot, that’s sensitive.”  
“You young bucks are supposed to have more endurance.” Volpe gave him a teasing poke in the center of his chest, brushing a thumb over the nipple he’d been teasing with his mouth earlier. He sat up on Niccolò’s hips, grinding down on him, rubbing his ass against Niccolò’s concealed member. “Come on, Machia. You want a go?”  
“No.” Niccolò pushed him off, getting to his feet with difficulty and reaching for his boots. “What I want is another drink.”  
Volpe chuckled, catching the young man in his arms and pressing his mouth to Niccolò’s shoulder. “Come, tesoro, don’t be like that. Love with me a little longer.”  
“Once is enough.” Niccolò wriggled free, sighing when Volpe caught him again, this time nipping at his ear. “Gilberto.”  
“You are so dear to me.” Volpe’s soft, reverent tone caught him off-guard. “Niccolò. Is it a sin that I want to keep you all to myself? That I don’t want to let Florence and the Signoria and Ezio have you?”  
“I know very little about sin.” Niccolò touched the hand that rested on his chest, lacing his fingers with Volpe’s after a little coaxing. “And no one has me.”  
“So you say.” Volpe’s hand slid higher, covering the young man’s heart. “And yet there is such passion in this pulse. You would die for her, wouldn’t you—for Florence.”  
“In an instant.” Niccolò brushed a thumb over Gilberto’s knuckles. “But I have a great deal to live for, as well.” He turned to face his older lover, slipping a hand down to Volpe’s cock and giving him a squeeze, smiling when the old fox jumped and narrowed his eyes. “If you trust that fool Bartolomeo not to destroy your den, we may yet have time for another round.”  
“Of dice, you mean?”  
Niccolò leaned forward and kissed him before dropping to his knees. “Yes. That.”


End file.
